


A Shoe For Every Occasion

by SilverRose42



Series: These Women Who Will Conquer [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Asexual Character, Assasians, Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF Women, BAMFs, Bisexuality, Brotherly Love, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Fake Character Death, Falling In Love, Female Character of Color, Female-Centric, Feminist Themes, Friendship/Love, Gen, Glitter, Gowns, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Don't Even Know, Islam, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Matchmaking, Maybe - Freeform, Mostly High Heels, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Idea, No Office Sex, Office Romance, Pansexual Character, Pining, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Possibility of Being Funny?, Shenanigans, Shoes, Shoes of Death, Sibling Love, Snark, So Much Snark, Tahiti, Tahiti is a Magical Place, Tequila, The Office is Mysterious, Totally Focused Around Women and Shoes, Unrequited Love, Vacation, bowling, drunken bets, escapades, gala - Freeform, i don't know how to tag, might become part of a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRose42/pseuds/SilverRose42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a known fact that most women feel powerful when wearing high heels. Every woman has a favourite pair of shoes. From a pair of sparkly flip-flops, to eight-inch, hot pink stilettos. The women of The Office are no different. "Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world." - Marilyn Monroe</p><p>Rosemary's got her cherry red pumps, and Lucille owns her shoes of Death. Vivienne's got a thing for sandals and big, floppy flowers, and Maria enjoys her flats. Give Evangeline some beat up sneakers, and she's happy as a clam. Michael is simply confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red, I Feel My Soul On Fire

It is a known fact that most women feel powerful when wearing high heels. Rosemary was no different. She owned a rather large “Impractical Shoe” collection, and wore them on a daily basis. Most of her friends did. It was their own way of fighting a war. All of them knew that those who were brave enough to walk loudly, to allow each step to be heard clicking on the tiled linoleum, were not to be tampered with.

~*~

“It's as though we're trying to prove we're not afraid anymore. That we're on their level now,” Rosemary's best friend and coworker Lucille has said over a video chat. “That we're worth as much as they are.” Lucille had smiled tightly after this, and hadn't spoken a word for the rest of their evening briefing. Afterwards, she had simply gone back to hiding her emotions behind blood red saccharine smiles, and the delicate sweep of a brush.

That year, for Christmas, Rosemary has received a pair of cherry red, four inch pumps. There was no return address, or clue as to who had sent the heels, simply a small note tucked into the box itself, written in painstakingly neat, and loopy cursive.

To help you in proving your worth.

When she returned to work, she managed to find Lucille, hidden away in the basements of the actual office building, and thank her profusely. Lucille had given her a quietly gentle, but slightly sad smile as she murmured “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

~*~

Whenever she was in the office, which was a fairly rare occurrence, she wore the red heels. People looked twice, especially the first time she wore them. Some of them even seemed like they were going to say something. But while Rosemary hadn't ever managed to perfect Lucille's saccharine smile, she had found something all her own. So when people opened their mouths to comment, Rosemary shot them a smile, big and wide, that showed off every last one of her teeth. Everyone thought twice about commenting.

“They're all mildly afraid of you, I think,” Evangeline had mentioned one day. “That smile of yours is rather frightening.”

Rosemary looked at her mission partner, and furrowed her eyebrows. “I should hope so,” she said finally, after a long moment. “I worked hard to get it to that point.” She huffed out a quiet half laugh. “Besides, if they're scared of me, they obviously haven't met Lucille.”

Evan had snorted, just as an intern passed them both. “They haven't. But they know her reputation. They've taken to calling her Lucifer.”

Behind them, the intern squeaked, and dropped his paperwork. Evan and Rosemary simply ignored him. “That sounds a lot like her,” Rosemary finally managed out.

Evan's eyes twinkled mischievously. “That's what I thought too,”she informed Rosemary dutifully, before taking her leave. Rosemary was left with the distinctive impression that Evan had been the one to start that particular nickname.

~*~

Rosemary wore the heels on a mission once and only once. She had been required to play a rich heiress in a casino, and had decided that the heels would work for that. She had been right. She had completed her mission, and had taken out her target. But she had also attracted some unwanted attention.

“Ruby slippers,” a man leered at her. He was Romanian, Rosemary noted with some disinterest. It wasn't a particularly common nationality to run into in a Vegas Casino. “Can I make a wish?” Rosemary distantly wondered is Lucille was recording everything. She probably was. Lucille was anal like that. Plus, it would make her next actions justifiable.

“Not tonight,” she snapped, and when he tried to grab her shoulder and force her to stay, she slammed the heel of her shoe into his foot. He screamed, and her heel broke off. Picking it up, Rosemary marched out of the building, and back to the car that would take her to Head Office, even as she ran through the people she knew, trying to figure out if anyone could replace a heel.

(In the end it didn't matter. Her red pumps went missing for a week, but she found them in their box, on top of her bed later. A note was attached.

 _Here are your shoes. Sorry for stealing them._  
_The heels have been upgraded. They've got knives in them now._  
_Click your heels together and they knives will come out. The heels won't break either._  
_Welcome to Oz._  
_P.S. Vivienne, from floor six can replace heels._

Rosemary had smiled at that. She had later gone to meet Vivienne, and thanked her. The other woman had turned out to be a wonderfully cheerful person, who was constantly smiling. Rosemary invited her to Girls Night Out later.)

~*~

Rosemary didn't date. Most people in the office didn't. It was hard to find someone understanding of what you did. Sometimes people had interoffice relationships. Rosemary's not sure how she feels about that, but she thinks that if she dated anyone in the Office, she'd probably go for Lucille. As it turns out, she doesn't have to think about relationships too much, since Lucille managed to shock everyone one day by coming up to the fourth floor, which was sparsely populated, and asking Rosemary out.

Rosemary had worn the red pumps on their first date. She had paired them with black slacks and a matching red blouse. Lucille had worn a Jade green 40s swing dress, and matching black ballroom shoes. She took the date as the best opportunity to thank Lucille for the shoe's improvements. Lucille had grinned, and said. “You're very welcome.”

It wasn't until Rosemary had moved into Lucille's apartment, several months later, that she realised that she had been one of the few to hear those words come out of Lucille's mouth. As she glanced at her girlfriend's shoes she smiled, and decided that a present was in order.

~*~

In the end, Lucille was gifted with a pair of satin powder blue toe shoes. They had diamond butterflies on the toe, and were perhaps even louder than the red ones that Rosemary herself owned. Lucille proclaimed it was love at first site.

~*~

In the end, Reginald, the boss, came to talk to her, a few days after she had gotten back from London. He asked her about her fixation with wearing high heels around the office. Rosemary gave him her grin, the one that showed off all of her teeth, and declared firmly, “Because the heel is just as much of a killer as I am.” Reginald had squirmed for a long moment, and then sighed.

“If you don't mind, we would prefer it if you wore something you could easily run in, on missions at least.” He frowned at her. “I won't stop you from wearing them at the office. You frighten the newbies. That's considered a good thing here.”

Rosemary's grin had grown slightly. “Maybe you should got talk to Vivienne on the sixth floor. I'm certain she'd love to show you some ideas about outfitting agents before missions.” It later became apparent that Reginald had done just that. Vivienne drug everyone in their friend group up to her office to show them the prototype platform with retractible heels.

~*~

Rosemary's shoe collection was largely impractical. It had only grown since she realised that she and Lucille were the same shoe size. She remained fond of all of her old shoes, and had taken to wearing different pairs to work (except for the pair of ballroom shoes Lucille had gotten for her so hey could go swing dancing). She liked all of them, and loved the sound that they made on the tiled linoleum floors of the office. She never wore them on missions anymore, at least, none from her personal collection, but she enjoyed every pair she put on, all the same.

Her favourites were still the cherry red pumps she had gotten for Christmas all those years ago.


	2. Black, The Dark of Ages Past

Lucille wore her makeup everyday, without fail. From the splash of eyeshadow and blush, to the sweeping curls of her mascara, wings of liquid eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, and a splash of blood red across her lips, Lucille kept applying it, running old brushes against her skin every morning, without fail. After all, there was a war on, even if it was a secret, and this was her warpaint.

~*~

Technically, as she spent more time in the office, she also should have able to wear the loudest pair of red heels she could find. But, while she did own several pairs of cherry red heels, she decided against it.

The pumps were shiny black patent leather. The clerk has asked if she had really wanted something like that. They were basic black pumps, the other woman had told Lucille. Not particularly suitable for being anything other than plain. Lucille had smiled at her. It was a saccharine smile, too sweet for a woman like her. She knew what she was doing.

The black pumps would click harshly, even against the carpet in the basement. Most of the people in the basement level were men. Lucille knew this. It was, after all, where the shoved anyone who worked with computers. So everyone that worked down there knew exactly who was coming whenever there was a click when someone walked. The interns learned to fear her.

She learned to be okay with that. She had spent a lifetime being sneaky, being quiet, being frightened. Walking in heels meant that she was stronger then that. Powerful. And if that meant frightening the interns, than so be it. It was worth it.

~*~

“People have taken to calling you Lucifer, did you know that?” Michael's cheerful voice rang out from the doorway of her cubicle.

Lucille eyed him curiously. “Have they? How odd.”

“Yup,” Michael popped the 'p'. “They seem to think that you're dangerous.”

Lucille raised a perfect eyebrow, and eyed him over her glasses. “I am dangerous.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Be that as it may, you're scaring them. You could probably afford to turn it down a notch.”

She hummed noncommittally. Michael shook his head, and turned to leave. “Michael, darling.” He stopped, and glanced at her. “You wouldn't happen to know just who started calling me Lucifer, would you?” His smirk told her all she needed to know.

~*~

When Reginald approached her about spotting for a team of two women, she informed him that she rather enjoyed her current job. When he informed her that taking this position would allow her more access to hack into high profile security systems, and land her and office of her own, she hesitated, but packed up her desk, and moved into an office with a door within the hour.

~*~

While she never met Rosemary and Evangeline in person, she grew accustomed to having their voices in her ear almost constantly. Michael had taken an obstinate position in her office, refusing to leave unless absolutely necessary. It had managed to work its way to the point that Augustus, the department head, thought that it was simply easier to give him a desk in Lucille's office than try to force him out. This turned out to be the best idea of the century, as the two of them worked phenomenally together, and it gave the field agents a better chance to branch out without losing one of them accidentally.

During a briefing, Lucille had told Rosemary her thoughts about why women chose to wear heels. Rosemary had gotten a pensive look on her face. When Christmas rolled around that year, Lucille had gotten Rosemary's shoes size, and bought her a pair of bright red, four inch pumps. When Rosemary actively searched her out in the basement, Lucille had smiled, and lied through her teeth. But she was happy that Rosemary had liked the shoes.

~*~

“So, the results of the poll are in.” Michael caught her as she was clicking her way down the halls on the sixth floor after a visit to Vivienne. Rosemary had broken a heel off of her red pumps on a mission, and while Lucille couldn't fix it, Vivienne could.

“Hmm.” She finally responded to him.

“Yeah. 21% of the office thinks that you're the mother of the Antichrist.” Michael sounded like he was grinning, the utter bastard.

“I don't have kids,” she muttered distractedly, as she sorted through some of her ideas as to how to improve Rosemary's shoes. Unconsciously, she crossed her legs, and started to play with her own.

Michael frowned at her. “Doesn't seem to matter. Have you ever considered wearing a different pair of shoes to work? I know you have other pairs.”

“I like these,” Lucille muttered as she scribbled away. “They're ominous. These shoes belong to death.”

“Ah,” Michael said. “Right. Well. Back to the poll. 15% say that you are Death, so you might not be far off on that shoe theory.”

“I'm not Death, Michael.”

“Whatever. Did you know that a whopping 44% of the people in this building, including Reginald, believe that you're name is too powerful to say, and if it passes their lips, it will summon you as the Goddess of Death and Destruction?”

“When did you even find the time to do this,” she griped. “And no, I did not know that. I'm not a Goddess, Mica.”

“Okay, well. Everyone believes you are. 10% claim that you're the result of a government experiment gone wrong.” He grinned at her. “5% have declared you to be an alien super villain, come to take over the planet.”

“Wonderful.” Lucille finally looked up at him from where he was perched on top of his desk. “What about the other 5%?”

“4% is saying that you're the Lady of the Lake, reincarnated from Arthurian legend.” She raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't question it. “And finally, 1% has decided that you are an Archangel, and God's gift to mankind.”

Lucille's brain short circuited. “Who said that?”

Michael grinned wildly. “One Rosemary Jameson. You should ask her out.”

Lucille scowled at him. “No.” He shot her a look. “I'm self destructive Mica. Whenever I get into a relationship, I screw it up. Nobody wants me. I'm terrible. I'm going to explode one day, and I'm going to take everyone with me.”

Michael shook his head sadly. “I don't believe that. And I wish that you would start to see that nobody else does either.”

~*~

“Why aren't you and Rosemary dating by now?” The question rang out through Lucille and Michael's shared office. Michael snorted.

Lucille sighed, and put down her pen. “Hello Evangeline. How nice to see you today. What brings you to the basement?”

Evangeline scowled. “Don't start with me. And it's Evan, not Evangeline. My mother was crazy when she named me. But seriously, why aren't you and Rosemary dating? You're perfect for each other!”

Michael began to giggle quietly at his desk. “Maybe I'm just not interested,” Lucille declared, frowning at Michael, who had begun to hit his fist on his desk.

Evan's scowl deepened. “Bull.” She sighed. “Listen Boss. I can't force you into anything. But get your head out of your ass. Rosemary's pining.”

“So's Lucille,” Michael managed out, still snickering.

Lucille scowled, and stood up. Her heels, black and shiny clicked across the floor. “Evangeline. Please leave.” She opened her office door. “Now, if you don't mind.”

Evan rolled her eyes, but left without complaint.

~*~

“So, are you and Rosemary dating?” Lucille's head slammed into her desk.

“Why does everyone want me to date Rosemary,” She demanded. “Viv, I don't understand.”

“We all think you'd be cute together.” Vivienne shrugged. “And she seems like she'd be a good influence on you, Goddess of Death and Destruction.”

Lucille looked up at her. “You, Evan, Maria from the front desk, Isabella from floor three, Jeanette from floor two, Sylvia from floor five, Michael. Rosemary are not getting together.” She paused to think about what Viv had just said. “Did you really participate in Michael's survey? And did you really vote for that?”

Viv rolled her eyes, and grinned. “Yes, I did participate, but I thought you'd be the Lady of the Lake. Convinced some of the interns that had never met you to vote for that as well.”

“Of course you did.” Lucille sighed. “Viv, you're a nutball.”

“Well, thank you. But no Rosemary?”

“No Rosemary.”

~*~

“I dare you to ask her out tomorrow.”

“Maria! Lucille's drunk! Don't take advantage of her like that.”

“It's the only way she'll do it Viv, you know that.”

“Hush Jeanette, you're not helping.”

“Viv, let them do it. The UST is insane.”

“Isabella! Don't encourage them! Sylvia, back me up.”

“Not likely, Viv. Michael?”

“I'll by you dinner for a week if you ask her out Lucille.”

Lucille stared at Michael for a minute. “Done.”

~*~

Lucille took a deep breath. She was wearing blood red lipstick, and Death's shoes. She could do this. She clicked her way up to Rosemary's desk. “Would you like to go out sometime? On a date?”

Rosemary's smile could have blinded her. “I'd love too.” They both stood there, cherry red and deadly black mixing together on the floor.

~*~

When Lucille received the powder blue satin toe-heels, with their diamond butterflies, she smiled softly, and for the first time in several year, wore something other than her black pumps to work. Michael, when he saw them, grinned, and dutifully informed her that he loved her shoes, before asking if she thought Viv would wear eight inch stilettos. Lucille twitched.

~*~

Lucille wore makeup to work everyday. She applied it diligently every morning, old brushes moving across pale skin. Her eyeliner was still jet black, sharp enough to kill a man, and she was still well known for being a Goddess of Death and Destruction, but her shoes no longer matched. The interns would even come and talk to her. Lucille was still strong, but she was also kind, and gentle. It was worth it.

(She still wore the black shoes of Death, whenever she wanted to be frightening. The interns still paled.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is Lucille! ...And her black pumps of Death. Good, well thought out, constructive review earn giant smiles and homemade cookies! Flames will earn the wrath of the Goddess of Destruction and Death. Cheers!  
> ~ Silver Rose


	3. How Do You Solve a Problem (Like Maria)?

Maria woke up every morning and pulled on her skirt and blouse, just before she combed her chocolate curls. Every morning, she pulled those same curls back into a lose ponytail using a a gold, diamond encrusted barrette. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, and she used it everyday before pulling on simple nude heels (only an inch in height) and going to work.

Maria believed in a simple, steady routine. As such, she always wore her barrette, and her nude heels.

Officially, Maria was a receptionist. Because she sat behind a desk all day, she had the option of wearing the most comfortable shoes she could find. As it was, Maria arrived at work, sat down, and kicked her heels off, only putting them back on to go wandering through the office. (Technically, the people who worked on floors that weren't the first could wander around barefoot. Reginald was fine with that.)

The heels were leather, with a boxy toe, and completely professional. Just like Maria.

~*~

The heels made a nice tap whenever she walked. It didn't really match Lucille's sharp click that frightened everyone, or even the loud clack that Rosemary's made as she marched down the halls. It really was just a tap, a surprising change from many of the women at the Office.

Maria wasn't like Lucille. She didn't need to be loud to feel powerful. She had a small revolver in her desk drawer, and a button that called security for that. She wasn't brave. She wasn't loud. She was just plain old Maria.

~*~

“They're calling me Lucifer now,” Lucille gripped. “Seriously. They couldn't have come up with anything better?”

Maria shrugged as she took another bite of her pasta, her heel tap-tap-tapping against the floor. “Your names do translate to essentially the same thing. Besides, you're frightening similar.. Your Reginald's favourite, but you have a strong tendency to go against the rules.”

“I do not,” Lucille managed to sound smug and insulted all at once, a mildly frightening talent, Maria noted.

“You do,” she said with a sigh. “You totally do.”

~*~

“Hi,” A woman wrung her hands nervously as she stood in front of Maria's desk. “I'm hoping you can help me.”

“If you're looking for a different building, I can't help,” Maria informed her, beginning to tap her heels.

The woman looked taken aback, but she shook her head. “I'm Rosemary Jameson. I'm looking for someone named Lucille. She works with the computer department, but I've realised that I have no idea where that is.”

Maria blinked, before looking up. After all, if anyone at the Girls Night knew the name of someone, it was Rosemary. “Basement level,” she said easily. “If it's about the shoes, she's going to deny giving them to you.”

Rosemary blinked. “You know her?”

“We're friends,” Maria said easily, the tapping increasing as she spoke.

Rosemary looked mildly amused. “I was under the impression that she didn't have friends, because she was a goddess.”

Maria laughed. “You've taken Michael's survey,” she finally managed to get out. “She'll love that.”

~*~

“Did you participate in Michael's survey?”

Maria sighed. “Hello Daisy. I'm doing well today. And yourself?”

Daisy flapped her hand at Maria, and grinned. “Hiya Maria! So, did you?”

Maria bit her lip, and tapped her heel gently, hoping to escape. “Yes, of course. Nearly everyone did.”

Reginald's perky secretary grinned. “What did you vote for, and have you heard the results?”

“I have. But you have to tell me what you voted for first.”

Daisy pouted, but smiled again. “She's totally Death.” She grimaced. “Reggie thinks she's a Goddess, and Scarlett says that she's a government experiment.”

Maria snickered. “Mother of the Antichrist. Defiantly.” She paused. “Scarlett?”

Daisy's smile was back. “Floor Eleven.”

The brunette's brow furrowed. “Isn't that law?”

The redhead nodded. “Yeah. Reggie just hired her. She's fresh out of law school, and she graduated top of her class.”

Maria matched Daisy's grin. “Wonderful! The law department needs more women. Also, Daisy, darling, try and tone down your relationship with Reginald. I know the entire Office knows, but there's no need to stop being professional.”

~*~

“Hello! Are you Maria? You must be, you've got the gold and diamond barrette. Oh! Very simple shoes. Yes, I love those. Very professional. Rosie mentioned you. I'm Evan.” A perky young woman stood before Maria's desk when she arrived back from lunch.

Maria blinked. “Yes, I'm Maria. How may I help you?”

Evan smirked. “Listen, I'm trying to find Lucille. Rosie's pining after her, so I need to go confront her.”

The brunette hesitated, and eyed the blonde. “Rosie?”

“Rosemary Jameson. Is pining. After our favourite computer chick.” Evan eyed her. “She apparently found Lucille through you. I need to go confront her about asking Rosie out, 'cause Rosie defiantly won't make the first move.”

Maria sighed, and sat down. “Good luck with that. Lucy's in the basement, and she's resistant to the thought that Rosemary might be even slightly interested. Head on down, and don't tell her you saw me.”

~*~

“I didn't work. She kicked me out.”

“I told you so.”

“I told her you were the one to send me down there.”

“You are a terrible person.”

~*~

“Uhm, hello. Maria?”

Maria began to tap her heel. “I'm generally unaccustomed to people asking who I am in the cafeteria,” she said calmly, a hint of a threat echoing in her voice. “How may I help you?”

The raven haired young lady took a deep breath. “I'm Scarlett. Daisy said you were nice. I normally sit with her, but she's in a business meeting with Mr. Carson today, so, I thought I might try you. But if you're not happy about that, I'll go somewhere else, I just thought, maybe...” she looked nervous. Maria stopped tapping, and her face softened.

“Of course you can sit here! I'm sorry I snapped, I thought you worked on the Floor Four.” Maria blushed, and Scarlett looked relieved.

“Thanks. Anyway, Floor Four. That's where we keep the Operative's Offices, right? Why would you think I work there?”

Maria shook her head. “I keep getting approached by Operatives who are trying to get me to convince Lucille to ask Rosemary out.”

Scarlett blinked. “Lucille as in the woman that the poll was about last month?”

Maria nodded. “That's the one. And Rosemary works in the Field, but Lucille's her spotter. Even Lucille's co-spotter Michael, and Rosemary's partner Evan think they'd be perfect together. The problem is convincing those two.”

The other woman looked pensive. “Daisy mentioned something about that. And I met Michael already, when he was doing the poll. Evan came to visit me; said Daisy sent her. I don't know why.”

The brunette frowned. “Have you talked to Michael much?”

Scarlett frowned. “We went out for drinks one evening, but just as friends.”

Maria laughed. “That explains everything. Evan's going after Michael.”

“You're kidding me.” The other woman stared.

Maria shook her head. “I'm not. I swear, working here is like living in some kind of soap opera.”

~*~

“Maria, pay attention to me...!” Maria sighed, and began to walk away from Michael, who was whining about Evan.

“No. Honestly Michael, grow a pair and ask her out.”

“But Maria! You know she won't say yes!”

“You don't know that! Go ask her out, and leave me to do my job!”

“She would never say yes to me, you know that!”

Maria glanced up, only to find Evan standing in the hallway, staring at them both. Quickly, she motioned for Evan to get into the closet. “How much do you love her, Michael?”

Michael blinked, and stared. “How much do I love her? Maria what a horrible, awful question to ask. I love ma belle, Evangeline so very much. She is the light of my life, that star of my morning.” He paused, and then added quietly, “I would give up everything in the world for her Maria, you know that.”

Evan leapt out of the closet, and kissed him soundly.

~*~

They were all sitting in a bar, cheerfully drinking their way through the inventory, celebrating Evan and Michael's get together, and Maria, being the designated Driver, was disgustingly sober. Lucille, on the other hand, was well on her way to being just drunk enough to go along with something she normally wouldn't do.

“I dare you to ask her out tomorrow,” she found herself saying, smiling lightly at the ensuing argument, her smile only growing wider when Lucille finally said:

“Done.”

~*~

_While we love your nude heels, we thought you might like to change it up a bit sometimes. You have our gratitude for your help._

_~ LVC & R. Jameson_

Maria pulled out the pair of wedged sandals, only two inches in height, and a beige colour, and smiled. Really, her friends were wonderful.

~*~

“You should date George,” Scarlett said cheerfully at Girls Night later that week. “You'd look very cute together.”

Maria laughed. “I'm currently unavailable, sorry. Not looking for anyone.”

(When a muscular young gentleman, dark hair falling into his face, holding a bouquet of tulips, and spouting an excuse that involves Daisy, Scarlett, and Jeanette, Maria begins to reconsider her choice of friends. When he asks her out for coffee, she begins to reconsider her decision on dating.)

~*~

“Are they always like this,” George asked, sounding amused after couples night. “They seem a bit overbearing.”

Maria laughed. “They always have been.”

He smiled at her. “They seem nice though.”

She smiled back. “They are. They only what what's best for you, I promise.”

They were both silent for a minute, before Maria hesitated. “Would you like to go to Spain with me? To meet my family?”

George grinned. “Honestly? I'd love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, a wild, matchmaking Maria appears on the horizon! I enjoyed Maria, even though her story didn't really revolves strongly around shoes. The barrette is actually more of a focus, and I loved that hairpiece. George might get an interlude later revolving around Maria and her hairpieces. Jeanette's up next!
> 
> ~ Silver Rose


	4. Jet Set is the Only Way to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, Evan has made an appearance! Good for her!
> 
> Comments are welcome, flames will be used to fake someone's death for purposes of plot.
> 
> ~ Silver Rose

Evangeline Aranada could say, with great pleasure and pride that, unlike her colleagues and friends, she did not wear heels. The fact of the matter, she was always quick to point out to anyone who asked, was that she was far to tall, and far to clumsy to even consider wearing heels even occasionally, let alone all the time.

“My darling girl,” Lucille had told her one evening, “If you fear to wear the shoes you love, then there is no hope for you, or your love.”

Evan had bit her lip, but had not replied.

~*~

It really wasn't that she didn't want to wear heels, of course. Evan was indeed very fond of her friends shoes. She just...couldn't. After all, if she couldn't walk without tripping over herself while she was barefoot, what chance did she have while she was standing on her toes?

Besides. She already towered over Michael anyway, at 5'10. She didn't need another four inches of height. Or six.

And she was always on the move anyway. She spent more time on aeroplanes than she did on the ground. So what was the point?

~*~  
“Walking in them just takes practice, that's all,” Rosemary told her one day. “You'll do fine.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Evan grumbled. “You and your precious girlfriend are both as graceful as they come.” She nimbly dropped out of the air vent they were crawling through.

“Yeah,” Rosemary said, a dreamy tone to her voice. “Did you know that she used to dance? She can put her entire leg behind her head.”

There was a rather indignant squawk on the other end of their comms. “Rosemary! I told you that in confidence!”

Evan laughed. “Uh-oh Rosie. Sounds like the girlfriend's displeased.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “She loves me.”

There was a huff in their ears before a quiet, yet loving “Yes, I think I rather do.”

~*~

Maria was a wonderful person, who forced Michael and Evan to admit their feelings for each other. Almost immediately after, Evan ran away, mostly because she was unsure of what she was doing, both with Michael, and her love life in general.

She flew to Moscow.

~*~

Lucille forced her back, eventually, but she almost immediately took a vacation week. She dropped off the grid at the same time. Because really, if she didn't, there was no point to the whole affair.

~*~

Michael finds her in Tahiti. Conversations are had. They come back hand in hand. Rosemary's there to pick them up from the airport.

~*~

Evan owned a beat up pair of blue and white sneakers, solely for the purpose of sneaking around. They were comfortable, quiet, and above all, they weren't the heels that she dreaded so much. She made an attempt to wear them whenever she could, mostly because she wasn't the one trapped into going to all of the fancy parties. Until she was.

~*~

Maria was out of town, along with George. This should not have been an issue, except that it left two spots open at the annual Sponsorship Gala, something that Evan tried to avoid as much as possible, mostly because it involved social situations, ballgowns, and heels. Evan hated all of it, and always tried to be somewhere else in the world when it happened (one memorable occasion had left her near the Artic Circle in an attempt to avoid the gala). But this time, she was not permitted onto a plane.

Her one blessing was that Michael was being conned into taking George's spot, and therefore, was acting as Evan's date for the evening. But that was still dampened by the heels she was currently sliding on underneath her dress.

The dress itself was lovely, she supposed, all pale gold fabric, draped towards the front, with gold beading at the waist, and the neckline, making it look as though there was some sort of corseting involved. The shoes were also gold, and matched the floral beadwork of the dress. They were the absolute last thing Evan wanted to wear, but, well, Vivienne insisted. And when Viv insisted, Evan listened.

Jeanette gave an appreciative whistle as Evan stumbled out of the dressing room Viv had set up. “You look nice.”

“I look like a piece of fudge that's been smothered in caramel,” Evan deadpanned, even as Lucille and Rosemary joined them. She eyed the three women that were smiling before her. Jeanette was in something that was raspberry coloured backless that could possible be silk. Rosemary was wearing black, decorated with matching lace, that had a slit running nearly all the way up. And Lucille smiled up at her, a vision in blood red that sort of made Evan want to scream. Though that might have just been the shoes.

“You do look lovely,” came another voice, and there, thankfully, was Michael. Michael who was currently much shorter than she was, but still there, prepared to escort her. “Your carriage awaits, my dear.”

“You mean the elevator.”

“That too.”

~*~

“I hate these shoes.” Evan mutter, tugging them off.

“Why are we in a bowling alley?” Reginald looked mildly put off at the place.

“We're here to bowl,” Maria managed. “You're here because you didn't want to deal with those idiots anymore.”

Reginald hummed in thought. “And why is my Vice President here?”

Fiona Queens shrugged. “Daisy invited me.”

Daisy gave a giggle. “This'll be fun! We're bowling in ballgowns!”

“This can't be safe,” Lucille muttered, probably the only one in the group that wasn't well on their way to being drunk.

“No, probably not,” Michael said cheerfully, hugging Evan from behind. “But it'll certainly be interesting.”

“Besides,” Rosemary gave a laugh, and pecked Lucille on the cheek. “With our skill set, what could go wrong?”

~*~

Evan couldn't remember much of anything from the night before. She remember the Gala, unfortunately, and she remembered the bowling alley rather vaguely, but that was about it. So she was a bit surprised to find herself on Lucille and Rosemary's living room floor, along with the rest of the bowling crew. Including Reginald.

“Morning,” Lucille said softly from her spot on the couch. “How're you?”

“I've got a killer headache, and I don't remember much of anything,” Evan informed her. “What happened? I though we said we weren't going to drink anything else?”

Lucille shrugged. “You weren't. But then Michael won the bowling match, and insisted on celebrating with more alcohol. At some point I think the two of you were doing something in a closet?”

Evan thought for a long moment. “Huh. Nope, still drawing a blank.”

Lucille smiled, and began to worm her way out of her partner's arms. “I'm making breakfast. Anything in particular you want?”

“Whatever's fine,” Evan said distractedly, looking around the room. If wearing heels got her more moments like this, then, maybe she wouldn't mind wearing them more often after all. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't spend quite so much time traveling around.


	5. There Will Be No Tea (And Very Little Sympathising)

Scarlett's first week at the Office had left her reeling. The whole place seemed to be home to a rather massive soap opera, which, while possibly the most hysterical thing Scarlett had ever seen, was also slightly off-putting.

There were, of course, Maria and George, both of whom were very nice, and had very recently gotten together. George was her coworker, her fellow attorney, but Maria had been her first friend at work.

There was also Evan and Michael, who were cheerfully together, even if they seemed to argue more than any couple ever should.

Lucille and Rosemary, the two women who had been trapped in their own stubbornness, and their matching self deprecation. They had gotten together, apparently, just before Scarlett got her job, and both had given her an ornate dagger that was sharp enough to kill a man, but ultimately was still used as a letter opener.

And then. Then there was Catherine. And Charlotte. Catherine and Charlotte. Charlotte and Catherine. You really didn't have one without the other. And why would you? They were in a relationship. Catherine Greats, who worked as a trainer in the gym. Dr. Charlotte Rye, who fixed operatives up as they came back from jobs.

So it was probably unfortunate that Scarlett was developing a large crush on both of them.

~*~

If Scarlett's first week made her realise that she was now living within a soap opera, her first day made her realise that she was both incredibly underdressed, and incredibly overdressed at the same time. Most people were wearing business casual, which was nice. The operatives wore sweatpants and baggy t-shirts most of the time. But almost all of the women seemed to be wearing heels. Scarlett couldn't decide if she loved the thought, or hated it.

The dress code itself was relaxed. Considering she had come from Yale's Law Department, anything was better. But the heels.

Scarlett hesitated as she kneeled on her floor, digging through her shoes. She had decided that she wanted something vaguely professional, yet still something that wouldn't infringe upon Lucille's apparent monopoly on black heels.

She snagged a pair of sparkly ruby slippers that looked as though they had come straight from The Wizard of Oz. She held her gaze on them for a long moment, considering, before she put them back. Far too dressy for her taste. Besides, there was apparently a monopoly on red shoes as well.

~*~

The white heels that Scarlett was currently wearing were, in no way a reflection upon Scarlett. White, but covered with red lace, Scarlett was cooly professional. Even as she marched straight past Catherine and Charlotte.

Okay, so that was a lie. Scarlett could feel her face heating up as she watched Catherine pull Charlotte into a rather passionate kiss. In fact, she was still blushing furiously as she sat down with Maria, Lucille, and George.

“Problem?” Lucille's voice rang out, and Scarlett groaned. Because of course Lucille would choose to pry.

Thankfully she heard Maria sigh. “Lucille. Don't tease her.”

George raised a question eyebrow. “Tease her? Why? What's wrong?”

“Scarlett,” Lucille said with an air of finality in her tone, “Is in love.”

George blinked. “Really? With whom?”

“With the Cs squared,” Lucille informed him cheerfully. Scarlett thought it was just like Lucille to be cheerful about outing her to the table.

George's brow furrowed. “Aren't they in a relationship already? With each other?”

“Oh yes.” Lucille was taking way to much joy out of this entire experience. Scarlett sort of hated her for it. “They are indeed. Which make's Scarlett's little crush even worse, I believe.”

“Lucille,” Maria said, sounding absolutely exasperated. “You have no room to talk, seeing as how you had to be dared into asking Rosemary out.”

Lucille fell quite at that, and Scarlett felt a belated sense of relief course thru her, and then felt slightly guilty. She knew by now that this was really just a way that Lucille showed that she cared. But she stayed silent. She wasn't quite sure that she was prepared to deal with Lucille's brand of caring.

~*~

“Scarlett?”

Scarlett glanced up, only to blink at Georgia. “Is that a new hijab?”

Georgia gave her a long look. “Does it matter?”

Scarlett shrugged. “Not really. I just get the feeling that I'm not going to like this conversation.”

The Islamic doctor frowned. “You won't. Cathy's injuring herself doing the most basic things in the gym. Lottie tenses whenever someone mentions you. You wouldn't happen to know why that's occurring, would you?”

“I would not.”

“Mmm.” Georgia gave her one last look, before sighing. “Well, either way, you have to fill out all of the legal paperwork for Cathy's injuries. You should talk to her about those at least.” With that, she turns and leaves.

Scarlett made a note to shove that legal mess onto George.

~*~

The night of the Gala, Scarlett found herself draped in high-necked black silk, watching Georgia dance on the arms of several benefactors, resplendent in dark blue.

She also found herself watching Catherine (Cathy?) being whirled around by Charlotte (Lottie?), the two of them never leaving the other's side, both of them in gowns of blue-green. When they danced, they looked very much like the ocean itself, Scarlett decided.

“Well, you don't look like you're having any fun.” Scarlett turned around to find Rosemary, also dressed in black, grinning down at her. She was also covered in silver glitter.

Scarlett blinked as she suddenly found herself covered in silver glitter as well. “I don't think Vivian would approve of her creations being covered in glitter,” she finally said, turning to look at a very smug Lucille.

The woman in red shrugged. “We're allowed to keep the gowns, actually.”

Scarlett blinked. “Oh.” Then she took in the dresses the other two women were wearing. “How come everyone else got interesting dresses? I got stuck with this thing.” She tugged slightly at the skirt.

Rosemary grinned. “Oh it's not that bad!”

That was easy for Rosemary to say, Scarlett thought. Rosemary's dress, while also black, had a slit, and lace, and beading, and was lower-cut than hers was. And, Rosemary's girlfriend was wearing a beautiful, red, strapless gown, with little diamond touches. She was covered in black glitter, as opposed to the silver Rosemary and Scarlett had.

“I suppose it could be worse,” Scarlett allowed.

Lucille rolled her eyes. “No, really. That hugs your figure really well. Besides. There is one upside. The Cs Squared haven't been able to stop looking at you all night.”

~*~

Lucille was lying. Obviously.

~*~

“You have not fixed it.”

Scarlett sighed. “Hello Georgia. I like your hijab. What was I supposed to be fixing?”

Georgia crossed her arms. “Thank you. You have not managed to fix Cathy and Lottie.”

Scarlett finally looked up from her paperwork, and sighed again. “Georgia, dear. I feel as though I should point out that there is nothing there that I can actually fix.”

Georgia frowned at her. “Yes there is. They love you, but they both feel that crushing on someone else is akin to cheating.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Even though they're both being faithful?”

Georgia nodded. “Polyamory exists. I don't care how you do it. But deal with the problem. Because they' re both interested.” And she left.

Scarlett sat back, and thought for awhile. Georgia couldn't possibly be right.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of a three chapter set. And the other two aren't the next few updates. Sorry.
> 
> Yes, Scarlett is useless in this case. She doesn't mean to be, I swear.
> 
> Next: Interlude: Michael and his Lesbian Best Friend.
> 
> ~Silver Rose


	6. Interlude: Tap Dancing Around the Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Michael!
> 
> Next: Daisy and her kitten heels.
> 
> ~Silver Rose

Michael Morrison loves Evan, of course. She's the best person for him; they're a good fit, he's decided. She's his friend, of course she is. But his best friend will always be Lucille.

He's known Lucille since they were in grade school, and yes, she has always been that prickly. She can be a lot of fun though, he'll always be quick to point out. When she went to work for the Office, Michael went with her (For this alone he's glad. It is thru this that he met Evan, and she is his star).

Lucille is a powder keg about to explode, and she probably isn't very healthy, but he keeps her around.

They both met Rosemary at the Office. When Lucille gets assigned to her, Michael does what he does best. He follows her.

Rosemary, when Michael finally meets her, is the fire that'll really start Lucille (he doesn't know just how right he is in that assumption).

Rosemary tells him that Lucille is God's gift to mankind, and Michael freezes. Because no, Lucy's a gift to him. Lucy had once told him that she was self-destructive, but if she is, then so is he. They will destroy each other, he thinks.

He smiles at Rosemary, and tells her that he'll pass that on.

~*~

He knows that his relationship with Lucy will always be platonic. He's okay with this. He has never seen her as anything but a sister. But he worries that once she and Rosemary finally get their shit together, Lucy'll leave him alone, in favour of her girlfriend.

Maria pulls him aside to talk about this. Then, because she has no time, she sends him to Dr. Iris Carroll, the Office's resident psychologist.

Iris tells him that he's obsessing over nothing, and sends him on his way.

Michael still worries.

~*~

Lucy and Rosemary finally get together. Michael has been pushing for this; he does want Lucy to be happy. He knows that Rosemary will make her happy. So he pushes for a relationship. And then, it all comes together. Michael doesn't quite know how to feel.

~*~

Lucy notices him drawing back, of course. She's known him for years, how could she not?

Every time he notices her trying to corner him, he manages to evade her.

In the end, Rosemary's the one that manages to corner him. “I'm not going to steal her, you know.”

Michael stares at her. “I know.”

Rosemary sighs. “No, you don't. Not really. You're moping.” She gives him a considering look. “I don't think you were interested in her romantically. You were far to encouraging for that.”

Michael is panicking quietly when his rescue comes in the form of Reginald.

“Ms. Jameson. Perhaps you could actually file a report for once, instead of interrogating one of your spotters?”

Rosemary freezes, but gives a short nod. “Of course, sir.”

Reginald gives Michael a look after she's gone. “Mr. Morrison. I don't know what's going on between you and Ms. Chanson, but I suggest you deal with things.” And with that, he's gone.

Michael remains terrified of Reginald.

~*~

Evan kisses him, and then she runs off on a mission.

And then, when Lucy finally drags her back, she takes a vacation. Or rather, she fakes her death. At the Office, it's essentially the same thing. Lucy's the worst offender. She's been legally dead no less than seven times by now. Michael's heard rumours that Reginald keeps death certificates with her name on them so that he can just write in the date.

But Evan fakes her death, and spends a week in Tahiti before Michael tracks her down so that they can have a discussion about feelings.

Michael goes to Tahiti with lead on a dead woman. He comes back with a girlfriend.

~*~

Lucy finally succeeds in cornering him, but she doesn't ask him about why he's not as involved in her life. That's never been her style.

Instead she invites him to historical reenactment.

That is totally more her style.

By the end of the weekend, Michael is covered in dirt, is wearing a jacket in the style of the late eighteenth century, and is pretending to be dead, Lucy right beside him, as she always has been.

He swears he'll never doubt his relationship with Lucy ever again.


	7. God Knows Anything Goes

Okay, so, it was pretty much an open secret that Daisy was sleeping with Reginald. What absolutely was not an open was that Daisy wasn’t exactly just his secretary. She is absolutely trained to defend him from any threat that anyone in the building might pose. (Well, okay, maybe not against Lucy’s cyber attacks. But anything physical, definitely.)

She tends to watch everything happen though. She participates in whatever crazy thing Michael’s cooked up recently (Lucy just about killed him for that stupid survey of his), and she places her bets on whatever romance is trying to blossom among everything else.

She lets Reginald take her over his desk, right before the ball. She appears at the gala, a vision in pale pink, blonde hair once again swept back beneath her hijab, on Reginald’s arm. She watches Scarlett pine for Lottie and Cathy from the side lines, watches Evan awkwardly dance with Michael, even as she towers over him. Watches as Lucy expertly whirls Rosie around the floor. Watches Evan laugh. Watches and wishes that Reginald would do that with her.

Oh, Reginald loves her, she knows. He just can’t show it to the public. She has to wear his ring for that.

He does dance with her. But it’s calculated and cold, not passionate, like the others.

~*~

Bowling with the group is one of the best nights of her life Daisy decides. Waking up on Lucy’s floor, Reginald curled up beside her is even better.

~*~

Daisy is in her office when the attack happens. Reginald isn’t in, which is a good thing in Daisy’s mind. But the attack still happens. So she takes a deep breath, fakes her death, and goes to destroy whoever it was that choose to lay a hand on Reginald.

(If, a few days later, Daisy gets an encrypted email from an email, one that calls her Dorothy, in which the sender claims to be Glenda the Good, well, Daisy will simply have to send Lucy a thank you note at some point.)

~*~

Taking them down takes time. Daisy keeps her clothing choices practical and dark. She glances mournfully at her pale yellow kitten heels, but leaves them behind. She has no use for them at the moment.

(The toes are now stained with blood from the attackers. She leaves them on the floor. Fiona is the one that finds them.)

~*~

Daisy will find out, later, the Fiona went straight to Reginald, who, while he declared her dead, hoped that she wasn’t. And that he worried, desperately.

(All of that information came straight from Sylvia, who informed her dutifully that Reginald had refused to do much of anything. John and Sam, who Daisy was surprised to find had been pulled home to protect Reginald, told her that Reginald himself hadn’t spoken since she had left. Daisy didn’t know how she felt about that.)

~*~

It took time, to take everyone out. Daisy hiked around the word, determined to keep her beloved safe. But eventually, she succeeded.

The day she came back, Daisy walked in through the front door, pale yellow kitten heels clicking on the floor, matching dress and hijab with her, and a smile on her face.

(She may have taken a great amount of pleasure from the shocked stares she was getting from her co-workers.)

She settled down at her desk, cheerfully ignoring the stares she was still getting.

A few minutes later, Fiona came down, and stopped in front of her desk, package in hand.

“From Reginald,” the other woman said with a shrug.

Daisy frowned at that, but opened the package anyway. A little blue box slipped out, and Daisy grinned.

~*~

And if, after lunch, Reginald looked rather rumpled, and Daisy’s left ring finger had a diamond sparkling on it, well, even Lucy managed to tone down her snark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Daisy's pretty short, but I think she's a happy camper by the end of this!
> 
> Next up: Cathy; or rather, part 2 of the threesome of confusion.


End file.
